


6 - Alone Is What I Have

by distantstarlight



Series: 31_Days_of_Porn_Challenge_2017 [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: 31 Days of Porn Challenge 2017, Day 6, Demisexual Sherlock, First Time, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Masturbation, Misunderstanding, Mutual Masturbation, Romantic Fluff, Sexuality, Sherlock had a secret, Virgin Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-28 17:57:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10836405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distantstarlight/pseuds/distantstarlight
Summary: Sherlock can’t have sex with someone unless he’s comfortable with them. He’s tested his boundaries many times, but the level of comfort he requires takes time and thus far, no one has remained attracted to him long enough to get there. John finally understands.





	6 - Alone Is What I Have

**Author's Note:**

> At first, I thought I'd write some angst-ridden tear-fest but it didn't turn out that way at all. No one is more surprised than me.

 “Wow, they really hate you.”

“You were told, John.”

“I thought he was just being an arse.”

“He was doing that too, he’s a banker, he can multitask.”

“It was _all_ of them though, I thought maybe one or two or maybe one entire class, but it was pretty much everyone except…”

“Just drop it, John.”

“ _Victor Trevor_.”

Sherlock groaned and slumped back onto their sofa. He was glad to be back home and grouchy that their entire Saturday evening had been taken up with an event he hadn’t wanted to go to in the first place. John had made him, now both of them regretted it. “What about him?”

“He was pretty…keen, actually.” John was watching Sherlock closely.

Sherlock made sure John could see exactly how hard he was rolling his eyes, “That panting fool! You have no idea how dreadful it was to be his lab partner in uni. He had entirely different ideas concerning the concept of _studying_.”

“He tried to pull you?”

“Uncounted times, John. I said _no_ in as many different ways as I could manage. It was tedious for me as well as pointless for him. I can’t have sex.”

John looked a bit puzzled but instead of laughing at him or in any way displaying disbelief, John just asked, “Why is that then?”

Sherlock heaved a great sigh and felt very put upon. _John would never stop wondering, he was tenacious that way._ Sherlock would need to explain and then that would end everything. _This date was going to be the worst day on the calendar forever, all because they_ _’d gone to his wretched graduating class reunion_. “I…I can’t relax enough with someone to become aroused, never mind actually achieving some kind of physical intimacy, not even kissing. Forget reaching orgasm, I just can’t lose myself in the moment. It takes a great deal of trust. You know how hard _that_ is for me! My body just won’t cooperate. I freeze up, draw back. I’ve never managed to get close enough to anyone to have sex. Victor Trevor desired me but he and I barely got on otherwise. He annoyed me and he wouldn’t stop touching me on places like my back or my shoulders or worse, my hands! That was unpleasant but better than the times he managed to touch me other places.”

John stood right up, “I’m going back to that party and punching his multitasking face in!” John was literally turning toward the door and beginning to walk away.

“John, stop. I’ve already had that fight. Perhaps he _was_ making eyes at me tonight but only because he must think that the passage of time has changed me enough to let him have what he wants. It hasn’t. I’m no different now than I was in uni. I couldn’t even share rooms, I rented a singles flat. I can’t bear to even share space with someone.”

“You and I have been living together for ages!” protested John.

“Exactly.” Sherlock sat back and waited for the end of their friendship. John would put the clues together now and the secret he’d been hiding all this time would be out.

John was thinking. It was obvious because his body stopped moving as he froze into place. John was clearly recalling Mycroft’s unkind teases about Sherlock’s sexual status and the time he’d asked if there was to be a _happy announcement_ about their relationship. Sherlock could practically see John’s brain arrive at that moment, and then, sure enough, John looked right at Sherlock, “I’m the only person you’re comfortable with.”

Sherlock looked away. He couldn’t watch this part. “Yes, John.”

“You’ve never had sex with anyone, not any kind of anything even?”

“Not a single person, John, not so much as hand holding. It makes my skin crawl to have to touch people when I’m not playing a role.”

“You touch _me_ all the time! You _sleep_ on me during long cab rides!”

“Yes, John.”

“I moved in the day after we met.”

“Yes, John.”

“We’ve been running around together all that time. We’ve shared hotel beds!”

“Yes, John.”

“How long does it take for you to get comfortable enough?” John suddenly looked intent, standing by the door as if still ready to search for Victor Trevor, but also as if he were ready to come right back to Sherlock. “How have you tested it?”

Now Sherlock was blinking, “I’ve attempted to maintain friendships and on several occasions, I’ve shared domestic arrangements. In every instance, the other party was unwilling to endure the amount of time it takes for me to achieve any level of trust and comfort necessary for me to engage in intimacy.”

“So if you didn’t fuck them right away, they moved out?” Sherlock blinked rapidly at John’s blunt assessment and bulldog angry face. “Those _bastards_.”

“Don’t judge them, John. You are an aficionado of casual sex. _You’re_ able to bed anyone the minute they are amenable. Would you be willing to wait weeks, perhaps months, before you give up on your interest? Even if you were, in my experience, most make the wait tolerable by enjoying someone else in the meantime. If I can’t even have sex with someone until I am comfortable, how in the world am I supposed to relax with them if they’ve just been with some third party? I can’t. I’m just not able. I will likely never have the chance.”

John looked directly at him. “I haven’t been with anyone since Mary.”

That had been a year ago. John had learned that Rosie wasn’t his, she was David’s. David hadn’t any idea that Rosie was his child, and hadn’t found out until after Mary was gone for good. He’d had one drunken night with Mary before she’d told him about her new fiancée, and he admitted that it had been a mistake that he’d almost confessed to John except that Mary had threatened him if he attempted to do so. He’d been terrified that Sherlock had figured it out during the final days before the wedding and hadn’t spoken to Mary since then but a series of blood tests after her demise had unveiled the truth. Rosie was now being raised by her biological and only remaining parent, but he was a kindly man, allowing John and Sherlock to babysit the little girl on occasion, or visit with her so that Molly Hooper could see her too.  All of them were happy to be included, not blaming David for his part in things. Mary had used him as she had apparently used nearly everyone who made her acquaintance.

They had moved beyond those days, and it had been a massive alteration of everything they’d become. Now things were back almost as they were when they first met so Sherlock considered things. John had clearly put the details together. _Would John make an offer? Had he already?_ “John, it would be best to be very clear about this. I fear that we are casually discussing a situation which will drastically modify the very fabric of our lives together.”

“Okay.” John thought seriously for a minute, coming back to sit in his chair, organising his words before he spoke. “You and I have been living together off and on for five years now. According to you, the _only_ reason you can’t have sex with someone is because you’re not able to trust them enough to entirely relax, _not_ because you’re married to your work.”

“I’m a little married to my work.”

“It’s a beautiful thing.” John grinned and Sherlock nearly laughed. John grew serious again, “What I’m understanding then is that there’s a bit of a chance that maybe you _have_ met someone you’re comfortable enough with but that maybe you think that you shouldn’t or that you’re not allowed to try?”

 _Sometimes John got things exactly right_. “Yes, John.”

“Is it because you think that person might not want a relationship with you or that they’re not interested enough anymore?”

“You know he doesn’t, John, not like that. He’s told enough people.”

John’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment and he swallowed hard, “I told everyone that I wasn’t gay and that we weren’t in a relationship.”

“You also dated a large number of women and then married one.”

John had slumped forward and covered this face. “ _Baskerville_.”

Sherlock nodded. He’d reached out that night in Baskerville. John had comforted him all through the night, his warm firm body pressed tight against Sherlock’s as they recovered from their fears together. If Lestrade hadn’t shown up first thing in the morning to spend the day writing reports and working with the local authorities, Sherlock might have taken advantage of their private room to explain things to John but he had, and then Lestrade and John had gone out for drinks to celebrate the case closing, and John had ended up shagging one of the local ladies in the alley behind their hotel. The repressed longing Sherlock had felt that morning during John’s breakfast after had very nearly been painful.

“I’m an arse.”

“You were never to know, John.” Sherlock had never intended for John to know that he was willing. _John was straight. John was his best friend. John wanted women and not men. John did not want Sherlock, not like that_. It hadn’t been worth the risk.

“I ran around because I couldn’t have the person I really wanted.” John looked miserable. “ _They_ were married, remember? I got everything in the world I might ever wish with _someone_ except one thing, and so I went elsewhere to get it, because how could I ask for that, from them? It wouldn’t have been right. They were up front about it and I respect that. I admire the dedication, the commitment. I even understand it a little but it didn’t stop me from wanting. I just didn’t let myself do anything about it.”

Sherlock was looking at John. _Was he hearing things correctly? Had they been living on the edge of opportunity all this time, neither of them able to take that final step because of a misperception?_ In a flash, Sherlock weighed all the pros and cons of the situation. In a moment, he arrived at his conclusion. There was great risk in speaking frankly because it could potentially end his friendship with John but there was an even larger chance of reward if his assessment was correct, “John, would you be willing to participate in an experiment with me?”

John’s grin was lopsided, and his whole body seemed to relax, “Anything you want, Sherlock. When do you want to start?”

“Right now.” Sherlock moved on the sofa, shifting over so that there was an open area to his right. John understood and relocated himself to the newly available space. Carefully, he extended his hand out and exhaled when John took it. They sat there, side by side, holding hands and it wasn’t awful. In fact, it was kind of nice. John’s hand was firm, warm, and surprisingly small. John’s size always startled Sherlock because John was _so much,_ it was hard to understand how so many things could be put inside such a small package. John’s thumb rubbed against his and that felt nice too. Sherlock took a deep breath and set John’s hand on his thigh. John carefully rubbed the fabric of Sherlock’s trousers, making small circles. It felt warm and a tiny bit tingly. “That’s nice.”

They held hands for a while and then John made tea. In the kitchen, John leant against the counter and Sherlock leant beside him. When their tea was ready, they drank their cups side by side, with Sherlock’s arm around John’s shoulders. That was nice too. John smiled up at him, “It’s late. Do you want to go to bed?”

“Together? Just for sleep?” Sherlock liked the idea but was apprehensive about John’s expectations.

“I’m tired. I could crash right now. You want to come up to mine?” John knew very well that half of Sherlock’s bed was littered with laundry and things he’d collected for future experiments whereas John kept his room immaculate and ready for use. Sherlock nodded so they put their cups in the sink and got ready for bed. Once Sherlock had brushed his teeth and changed into his pyjamas, he went upstairs and found John equally ready. The soldier was fluffing a second pillow and he tucked it beside the one he normally used, “Ready?”

Sherlock nodded silently. He’d shared beds platonically with John on multiple occasions and it had always been a delight for Sherlock. John made funny little sounds in his sleep, and sometimes his foot kicked a bit. Sherlock found it captivating, even when John snored. Normally he kept his distance but since he was experimenting, Sherlock lay on his side and got as close to John as he comfortable could, “Spoon?” he said and John understood. The smaller man turned away from Sherlock but snuggled backwards, and soon they were fitted tight together.

Sherlock draped his arm over John’s waist and felt his hand being stroked. “I might touch you while you sleep.” John nodded, “Goodnight.”

“Night.” John didn’t take long. He was disciplined, a true soldier. It was time to sleep so he slept, that was it. Sherlock lay there and familiarised himself with the heat of John’s body, the shape of it. John was shorter than Sherlock by several centimetres but his body was well-muscled, surprisingly flexible, and pleasing to feel. Curiously, Sherlock touched John everywhere over his pyjamas, even feeling his cock and arse, exploring his unresisting body avidly. When he was temporarily satisfied, Sherlock closed his eyes and began to file away everything he’d just learned. It was very tranquil and the moment he was done, Sherlock allowed himself to fall asleep.

When he woke up, he found that John had turned in his arms and was still sleeping hard. Something else that was hard was John’s penis. Sherlock understood that most men became erect during the waking process as the blood in their bodies began to move around with greater speed, their flesh leaving its torpid state as it rose to awareness. It was poking Sherlock’s thigh and he didn’t mind. It was perfectly natural and John wouldn’t force it on him. He lay there and catalogued all the things about John that he could perceive. Some time later, John began to shift, his breath quickening as he slowly woke. Sherlock noted the contented sigh John released as his hips rocked forward lazily, rubbing his erection against him. Sherlock noted that he _still_ didn’t mind and that he was even thinking of perhaps helping out, just for the curiosity of it.

John woke up. He was clearly entirely embarrassed by his physical condition and tried to pull away but Sherlock wouldn’t let him. “It’s alright John, really.” His voice was raspy from sleep but he didn’t want John to think that his arousal was unwelcome. Sherlock’s disability wasn’t John’s problem. “What would you do if I wasn’t right here?”

Sleepy or not, John managed to look entirely embarrassed, “Wank.”

Sherlock thought for a moment. He masturbated regularly because his transport needed it but it wasn’t something he particularly relished. It was a lot of work for a very minor pleasure. “Would you mind if I watched? I likely won’t be involved but I’d still like to see how you touch yourself.”

John thought about it for a minute then clearly came to a decision, “You can watch. Touch too, if you find that you want to. Like I said yesterday, anything you want Sherlock. I just want it to be me that you share these experiences with.”

Sherlock laughed softly and smiled over to John, “Well, it’s certainly not going to be with anyone else.”

That comment clearly made John happy. He wiggled until he was flat on his back, and Sherlock cuddled close, allowing John to use his arm like a pillow. John giggled and it was precious, and otherwise displaying no discomfort on his part, he began. John tugged down his pyjama bottoms and took his hard cock in his hands, stroking it gently. “Sometimes when I do this, I think of you.” He confessed, “Maybe more than sometimes.” He exhaled raggedly and changed his stroke to something slower, more gentle. “Is that alright?”

Sherlock thought about it. He should feel a bit dismayed about his flatmate masturbating to thoughts of him. If it had been Victor Trevor confessing such a thing, he would have been outraged and likely disgusted. That it was John seemed to make it acceptable, preferable even, “I’m on your mind that much?”

John chuckled and it was soft and low, “Yeah, you arrogant tosser, you’re on my mind that much.” John’s stroke sped up, “You’re amazing, I’ve always said so. What I haven’t said is that you’re so sexy you make me want to come in my pants when you bend over at a crime scene. I don’t know how many time I wanted to beg for a chance to suck you off after you’ve solved a case. I want to do so many things with you, Sherlock. I’m a bad man but I’ve tried to respect your boundaries, as much as I understand them.” John closed his eyes and moaned, his hand moving slower but his fist seemed to be clenched tighter. “Sherlock.”

“What can I do, John?” Sherlock found that hearing John pant like this was very affecting. Hearing him as well as smelling him brought an entirely new dimension to his impression of sex, John smelled wild and a little bit dangerous. To his surprise, he felt his cock give an interested twinge. _What would it be like to have John rut against him? Would it be too much to ask of himself, too close, too soon?_

John was breathing harder, sweat beginning to make his hair damp, “Whatever you like. Well, don’t poke me in the eye or hurt me in some kind of weird way.”

Sherlock snorted out a laugh and it made John giggle again, his laughter breathless and spiced with moans. With a smile, Sherlock allowed himself to reach down and place his hand over John’s. For a minute he just moved with John, adding nothing but his warmth to the process. Carefully he let his fingertips drag over the hardened flesh as John’s hand passed up and down before allowing his thumb and index finger make a circle around the base. John’s cock fucked through it and it made John scrunch up his eyes and breath so sharply he nearly whistled accidentally, “Fuckity fuck fuck.” He swore, “Intense, that.”

Sherlock was intrigued. _Feeling John_ _’s penis was extremely satisfying._ He wanted to feel it more so slowly he encouraged John to let go of it so that he could wrap his own hand around it. Once they were sorted, John began to move it for him, keeping his fingers closed just tight enough for friction but not enough to stifle the pleasure that was growing.

“Do…do…y…you…want me to h…help with that?” John’s left hand was on Sherlock’s hip, mere inches away from a very obvious erection. _When had that happened?_ Deciding that now was as good a time as any to experiment, he nodded sharply. They shifted. John was laying down and Sherlock was kneeling over his hips. Both of them were fully naked now, their clothes hastily discarded onto the floor. Sherlock ignored his own nudity in favour of enjoying John’s body. Cautiously John wrapped his quickly lubed hand around Sherlock’s cock. It made Sherlock close his eyes and drop his head back, but not because the sensation was unpleasant. Far from it! His body seemed to react in a visceral fashion to John’s touch, wordlessly crying out _finally, finally, finally_. “John!” he moaned with some surprise.

John moved with him. When Sherlock stroked, John stroked. When Sherlock squeezed, John squeezed. The soldier mimicked all the motions Sherlock made and it was almost as if Sherlock were masturbating himself with John’s hand. It felt stimulating and a tiny bit naughty. Delight filled him and a smile formed on his face even though his eyes were closed. He was enjoying this thoroughly. Arousal was delightful for once instead of overwhelming. Shuffling a bit closer, Sherlock manoeuvred so that his bollocks pressed up against John. The heat of it was strangely comforting. He could smell the arousal from John’s body, and now, from his own. It was intoxicating.

Everything felt good. Sherlock felt wonderful. _This was so much better than solo masturbation!_ The sensations were intense, good, fulfilling. Nothing about being with John was stressful or made him uncomfortable. Opening his eyes, Sherlock looked down at John who was flushed and sweating. John’s face was filled with an expression of complete devotion and adoration and Sherlock felt a small flame inside of himself begin to burn white hot. Sherlock’s eyes opened as wide as they could when he realised something shocking. He was going to come. It had been only a few minutes since they started and he was already on the edge. “John!”

“That’s it love, go on, all over me, let me see you, so beautiful, so perfect, my brilliant, amazing Sherlock.” John’s crooning words eased him through it. Pleasure had never come to him like this. He could feel his orgasm everywhere and not just his genitals. John’s fingers were perfect, holding him exactly right, and apparently witnessing Sherlock pulse come onto them was enough to tip John over the edge into his own crisis and that was beautiful too.

Breathing hard, Sherlock shakily moved. He had enough presence of mind to grab his pyjama top to clean them both, wiping come off their hands and cocks, and John’s slightly soft belly. As soon as they were passably clean, he collapsed beside John and snuggled up close. “That was incredible.”

John was grinning, his face still sweaty and exhausted looking, “It was. Not bad for our first try.”

“Not bad at all.” Sherlock settled himself and opened a door inside his mind palace. He had a lot of regrets locked up in there. It was time to go through them all and see which ones could be dealt with now that John was there to help him. Carefully, Sherlock began to construct future sex experiments, lining up the many many things he’d heard about but never once thought he’d get to try, “Rest now John.”

John giggled again, still tired and almost asleep, “Mad bastard, I know what’s going on in that beautiful head of yours. Go on Sherlock, sort it all out. When I’ve rested, we can try whatever you like.” John just turned his back to Sherlock and fell asleep still pressed against him. With a smile, Sherlock gathered up his completely cuddly doctor and snuggled harder still. Touching John was never going to be awful. In fact, he’d never get tired of touching John, or of having John touch him. Closing his eyes, Sherlock fell asleep smiling, anticipating wakefulness when John would touch him again, and again, and again.


End file.
